Treasured Son
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: "He's my little bug," Ana told Maria. "He's your son," Maria corrected. (FPC fill; Tony-centric)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please utilize understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note(s)** : More Ana Jarvis. This story comes after _Stolen Son_ and _Protected Son_. A really basic explanation of what has happened so far is that Ana Jarvis is acting as Tony's primary caregiver and is willing to kill to protect him. This story takes place the same night as the thwarted kidnapping attempt that took place in _Protected Son_.

If you are reading this on FFN, it is within the _Agent Carter_ category due to a) the lack of an Iron Man (Movie) category and b) the focus on a character from said show (Ana Jarvis).

 **Fem Power Challenge Information** :  
 **Fill Number** : 07  
 **Representation(s)** : Ana Jarvis; Motherhood  
 **Bonus Challenge(s)** : n/a  
 **Word Count** : 922 (Story Only); 933 (Story & Epigraph)

-= LP =-  
Treasured Son  
-= LP =-  
"Misfortune tells us what fortune is." – Jewish Proverb  
-= LP =-

Ana continued rocking long after Anthony's sniffles had evened out as he fell asleep. The weight of the toddler was grounding after coming so close to losing him. Even asleep, Anthony's fist refused to unclench from her dress. She understood how he must feel. She didn't want to let him go either. The soft feathery feel of his breath against her neck was more reassuring than she cared to admit. Edwin hadn't commented when he checked on them hours ago, merely placed a kiss on both their foreheads before laying down on the divan tucked into the far corner of the nursery.

Lord, she was so blessed to have such an understanding husband. Edwin was a good man whose only fault seemed to be a tendency to rush in where even angels would fear to tread for the sake of those he loved and an equally vexing tendency to make impossible promises (mostly vexing because of the former tendency). There were worse vices for a person to possess. Ana rubbed her cheek over Anthony's wild curls, breathing in the clean scent of him that was only barely tainted by the salt of his spent tears. There are worse sins to bear upon one's soul.

"He didn't speak."

Maria's voice made Ana open her eyes. The younger woman stood in the doorway as if unsure of her welcome, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the nursery. Ana smiled tiredly. Careful to minimize the disturbance to Anthony, she lifted a hand to beckon Maria closer. Ever the social queen, Maria moved forward with her back straight, gently commanding the room.

"He didn't speak," Maria repeated as the silence stretched. "He watched; he clearly understood. He matched Howard handshake for handshake. But not once did he say a word."

"Anthony doesn't like speaking in front of others," Ana said. She wished she could give Maria more reassurance than that. She wished she could tell Maria how it was simply the crowd that had frightened him or that he had simply been tired from all the activity. However, the only comfort she could give was to withhold the knowledge that Anthony's silence was usually based on not wanting to talk to strangers. For all the languages she could confirm her little bug as knowing, she had only heard him actually speak to five people. Howard and Maria weren't among that number; neither was Miss Carter.

"But he can?" Maria's voice sounded odd, unsure in a way that Ana rarely heard from the young Italian. The last time had actually been when Maria had confessed to not actually wanting to be a mother. Maria was clenching her fingers together tight enough that the white knuckles were visible even in the dimness. Ana made a soft noise of inquiry. "I had an uncle, back in Italy. He made instruments—of all kinds, too, unlike the other masters in our family. Many people came to our family's village just to buy one of his creations. But as brilliant as Uncle Fiore was, he never spoke. He couldn't. Tonight, as I watched Antonio, it occurred to me how much he reminds me of Fiore. Please, Ana, just say that he _can speak_ , that God is not punishing my son for my failure to be a proper mother."

"Oh, _Maria_ ," Ana breathed. She held out her hand for the other woman to take. In halting steps, Maria finally came close enough to do so. With her hand now wrapped in Maria's still anxious grip, Ana spoke in a measured tone. "Anthony speaks English, Yiddish, and Hungarian. I suspect he knows Italian and French, because of those hooligans Howard and Miss Carter bring around, and I know that Dr. Wilkes has been working on teaching him various sign languages. Dr. Wilkes also assures me that _science_ is not an actual language, regardless of what Anthony tells me."

"Thank God," Maria praised, letting her forehead touch their joined hands. For several moments, Maria actively thanked what seemed to be every one of her Catholic saints. Ana had never realized that there were quite so many of them. She had been careful to not teach Anthony the Torah as she would have a child of her own blood, but for the first time, Ana wondered if maybe she was remiss in not introducing the Catholicism that Maria practiced. Finally, Maria raised her head to meet Ana's eyes. "And thank you, Ana. I know that I shunted so much of Antonio's care to you. I also know that tonight could have been so much worse if you hadn't acted so quickly."

"I would do anything for Anthony," Ana stated. It sounded so simple but being simple didn't negate the honesty held within those words. "He's my little bug."

"He's your son," Maria corrected, only to shake her head against Ana's wordless protest. "I know he's mine. I'm not saying that he isn't. I just… He's yours as well, and I wanted to acknowledge that. To let you know that I'm okay sharing him with you." Maria kissed the knuckles of Ana's trapped hand. "I can think of no greater honor than sharing a child with you."

Then Maria pressed a kiss to Anthony's forehead before rising fully and leaving the nursery just as quietly as she had entered. Something loosened inside Ana's heart, some worry that she had not realized she had been carrying. Anthony snuggled closer in his sleep, unaware of their visitor.

And Ana continued the gentle rocking through the rest of the night.

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
-= LP =-


End file.
